A little reception

This post is really just an excuse to show you all some pretty pictures.

The Academy hosted a Welcome reception tonight (What?! Two-and-a-half weeks in? Yes.) at the Villa Aurelia. It is a gorgeous estate, and I would seriously consider living in a tent, nomad-like, on the grounds, if they'd have me.

A checkerboard of lemon trees

A fantastic wrought-iron door

Indigo, caught in the act of eating a canapé

Lovely fountain, complete with lily pads

Josh looking spiffy, indulgently following Indigo on her explorations

A view from one of the gardens

Yet another amazing fountain. The water drips from the top of the arch

Sunset and dusk. We saw bats fluttering amongst the trees

The lighting at dusk is gorgeous

Waterfire Roma

My good friend Michelle thoughtfully sent me an email last week to let me know that Waterfire would be coming to Rome. It's a tradition that started in Providence during our college days, and I fondly recall donning masks with my friends and walking down the hill from Brown to dance and caper amongst the throng of people who came downtown to see the flames on the water. I don't think I actually ever went with Josh, though, back in Providence, so we decided to go to the Waterfire's debut in Rome.

It's a lovely walk to the Tiber River from the Academy, about ten minutes down the hill and through Trastevere. It was our first date night in Rome - Indigo was home sleeping, being watched by our downstairs neighbors. Ever since we arrived, I have thought that Rome is lovely, but seeing it for the first time at night - it's really magical. I was surprised to find how comfortable I felt walking around, despite not knowing the language or even my way around. Everything just felt...familiar somehow. It resonated with me. Perhaps it's my own Italian heritage awakening?

We got to the Tiber, and saw a crush of people standing on the bridge, looking down at the river. We finally got close enough to see for ourselves, then we decided to go down to the river bank and walk along it.

After our riverside stroll, we went back to Trastevere to find a place to eat. We settled on the Taverna Trilussa which was recommended in Rick Steve's guidebook. Rick did not disappoint. The food was excellent. We had grilled artichokes, which may be my new favorite food ever. Josh got pasta, a traditional Roman carbonara (which is different from any I've had in the States).  I had Coda alla Vaccinara, which is oxtail braised with raisins, pinenuts and chocolate. It was heavenly.

 

After dinner, we walked home, taking a circuitous route so that we could see the spectacle that is Roman nightlife on a Saturday night. It was amazing. Have I ever seen that many people crammed into such tiny, narrow streets? I don't think so. This photo doesn't really do it justice, but it was the best I could do in the 5 seconds I had before a person on a Vespa nearly ran me down.

When we got home, we had some wine with the friends who were watching Indigo, and ended up talking until nearly one in the morning. It was a perfect ending to a lovely first date in Rome.

My life is not a Sondheim musical

By which I mean, there were no hijinks on our way to see the Roman Forum, farcical or otherwise. The excursion itself was quite enjoyable, though. One of the archaeologists here gave us a brief tour, starting off by saying, "I hate this site...!" I had to laugh at first - great tone to set, huh? But when she explained why, it made sense. She hates the bureaucracy of sites in Italy - they're badly run. For example, there is no information at the site itself for tourists; visitors must rely on explanations from professional guides. The site itself is a mess, and parts of it often closed off for one reason or another, etc, etc. (We could not see where the Senate had met, because the building was closed off). Still, she gave a fascinating lecture about how the site was used over time, and why some monuments were constructed the way they were, and how you (by which I mean, past-Romans) were meant to walk through them and experience them. It was a really spectacular lecture, actually. We thoroughly enjoyed it.

View of the Forum from the entrance to the site

View of the Temple of Saturn

Arch of Septimus Severus, built to commemorate a military victory

Another view of the triumphal arch

The first week, in pictures

Here is a peek inside some of the Academy buildings. These are shots of the interior courtyard of the main building, where lunch and dinner is served on nice days (and there are a lot of nice days). I caught a quick photo of Indigo dropping a few pebbles into a drain/grate.

Here Indigo and Josh are walking into the courtyard.

We're up on the Janiculum, a high hill outside of the main area of Rome (on the other side of the Tiber River), and just up the hill from the Trastevere, an area where a lot of the charming medieval-era buildings are still intact. Here's a view of the city from the Janiculum.

Here is the Piazza Santa Maria in Trastevere, home to the Basilica di Santa Maria in Trastevere, one of the oldest churches in Rome (circa the 4th century).

The piazza

The basilica

The city (what I've seen of it so far) has approximately a bazillion fountains. Some for show, some to drink. There's a fountain (sometimes just a pipe) in every park. The tap water in Rome is supposedly excellent, some of the best in Europe. It tastes good on a hot day, that's for sure! And Indigo loves any opportunity to play in water.

I can't remember the name of this fountain, but it's impressively large.

My water child

Getting the grump out

Life at The Academy is not quite what was advertised, or envisioned.

On its face, it seems idyllic: we're living in a villa, in what is essentially a gated community in one of the most kid-friendly and green areas in Rome; meals are prepared for us; a housekeeper comes to our rooms and apartments once a week; we have the opportunity to go to various lectures and receptions and so forth. And hey, it's Italy.

But you have to read the fine print. The area may be kid-friendly, but most of the Academy is not. Yes, they've created a sweet little garden across the street for the kids to play in. That's definitely something they've done right. But children are not allowed in any of the other green spaces on their 11 acres of land. Nor are they allowed in any of the buildings (save for the ones that house the family apartments) unless accompanied by an adult. And they must be quiet. And not run or play.

Meals are prepared for us, but at significant expense. And they occur late enough at night (beginning at 8pm) that nearly no child can attend on a school night. We were promised that Friday nights would be family dinner nights, which would start at 7pm, be served buffet style, and feature kid-friendly menus. We found out last Thursday that they were not going to have family nights this year, despite the record number of families and kids. Even though we were sent information this summer that they would occur.

We get housekeeping, but it comes at a 600 euro charge. Which we were not told about. Until last week. The fee is not negotiable - that is, we can't say "oh, we'll not have housekeeping to save ourselves the money." It's a mandatory fee. And doesn't cover the costs of laundry, which we need to pay for ourselves.

Children are not welcome at most receptions and events. Which effectively means that, unless a couple can get a babysitter, that the fellow gets to go to the receptions and events and talks and meals - and the spouse/partner stays home with the children. Or they trade off. Et cetera.

I get it. I do. This is a place to work. The whole mission of this place is to provide the space, inspiration, and support for artists and scholars to create their masterpieces. It's a lovely and grand tradition, and I am truly glad to be a part of it. Really, I am.

But it's not a family-friendly place. In the Academy's defense, I will say that it is exceedingly rare for an institution to allow families to come along on a fellowship at ALL - and I realize that they must go to an enormous expense to help make it happen. BUT - if you're going to invite families to your institution, perhaps you should not create policies that marginalize them.

I think it's reasonable to expect that families make arrangements for babysitting, etc so that spouses can attend events with the fellows. And I do understand that you don't want kids climbing on statues or splashing in fountains. But why can't they play on the grounds? Why can't we have the one family dinner a week that we were promised? Why not be up front about the costs that bringing a family would incur?

Transitions are hard

I've heard those three little words so often this past year. Indigo's teachers were fond of saying that phrase, whenever Indigo or another child would cry and throw a fit when coming to the classroom in the morning or when leaving at the end of the day. It's very true, too. Little kids are like, the quintessential illustrations of inertia - when they're in motion, they want to stay in motion, and when they're at rest, that's where they want to be. I've become accustomed to trying to ease transitions with Indigo by explaining ahead of time what's to come - she prefers to have a little notice if something's going to change, rather than have change be a sudden surprise.

I've learned two new things this past week and a half. One, is that there's absolutely no way to prepare a 20-month old for such a monumental change as moving to a new country and culture; and two, that transitions aren't just hard for kids. They're hard for everyone.

How do you explain to your bright, inquisitive little kid who is so incredibly verbal for her age, and who is used to not only being able to understand, but also to express herself well and be understood by others - why suddenly most of the adults around her don't understand her? And speak in gibberish? How do you explain the concept of another language? And how can I, her trusted and adored mother, leave her in a strange place with these people?

I'm not enthralled with the school here. It's not bad, you understand - it just can't compare to what I am used to. Her school in Northampton is exceptional. Beautiful facilities, amazing, smart, encouraging and warm teachers, progressive education. The school here falls short in so many ways. In the U.S., there are ratios of how many teachers you need for so many kids. I think for Indigo's age, you need 3 teachers for 9 kids. Here, at this school in Italy, I think there are 3 teachers for about 15 kids. AND - the third teacher only joined the classroom because he can speak English, and so can converse with the three American children in the classroom.

Which, is a positive thing, yes? Obviously the school cares enough about our children to have brought in an English-speaking teacher. He's quite nice, too. But it's just...it's not what I'm used to. It's not exceptional. Indigo's been having a rough time this last week, transitioning in. Of course, any place new would be difficult for her to adjust to, but it's doubly frustrating when I cannot really converse with the teachers, either. I can with the man, Lorenzo. Now. But he's not really one of the main teachers, and is just there for my kid and a couple other kids. I'm not entirely certain that he's a preschool teacher at all.

Still, they tell me that a few minutes after I leave in the morning, the tears stop, and she seems to enjoy herself. I worry somewhat that she's not getting enough stimulation in that classroom, but I don't know. Apparently she engages with the other English-speaking children and a new Spanish child and brings them together, and they all play. That's my girl.

She's been throwing a lot more tantrums than usual, this week. I suspect that it's because of the overwhelming amount of new information her poor little brain has to process, on top of all sorts of crazy change. It may also be that she's getting closer to the terrible twos. She's beastly, at times. I've found myself wondering, several times, whether she'd still be my sweet, happy child if we were still in Northampton.

I suppose that sounds a bit dramatic. She's still sweet, still happy most of the time. I'm just worried. But we all are - all the parents here are in the same boat. As one of the other mothers, Jessica, said - "You can only be as happy as your most miserable child." Indigo isn't miserable, not by a long shot. In fact, I'd say she's coping well, and it is comforting to know that all the children are having some of the same challenges. But I'll be enormously happy and grateful in a few weeks' time when we're through the worst of the transition, and we can settle into life here a bit more.

Indigo and Henny

As I mentioned earlier, there are a number of other children at the Academy this year. Twenty-two in all, in wide range of ages. Indigo is lucky enough to have two of the kids here, Henny and Charlie, in her class at her preschool. Henny is four months older than Indigo and Charlie is about two weeks younger.

Indigo has been playing with 2-year old Henny and her 5-year old sister, Sophia, a lot. Henny and Sophia are the daughters of Patrick (an American) and Katrin (a German). They are such sweet girls, and Indigo has really taken to them. They've been playing together every day.

Today at the Triangle Garden, Indigo and Henny played together on the slide. I couldn't resist posting a collage of the photos here.

Our house, in the middle of (a) Rome street...

We live in a lovely little apartment building next to the main Academy building. It's accessed by an electronic iron gate that swings open when we wave our keycard at the sensor (one of Indigo's new favorite activities). I believe that there are 7 apartments in our building - all house families. We're in number 5. There's a quaint little elevator that we can use - Indigo calls this the "alligator" and pushing its buttons are another new favorite activity.

The apartment itself is fairly nice. Small by rural standards, but spacious for a city. We inexplicably have 2 bathrooms but no living room. Our kitchen is large, with enough room for a full table and eight chairs, and a couch and side table on one end.

All the main rooms have ceiling fans and these huge windows that you can fling open to let the air in. Also, I suppose, real "Roman" shades. I should take a picture of them - they are unlike anything I've ever seen.

The best part of the house is our patio. We are the only apartment to have one (although there is a rooftop patio, too), which I think more than makes up for not having a living room.

Here is a picture of our patio in the morning. There are a number of pots on the side bench; I think I will get some plants for them. And hopefully remember to water them. One huge bonus of this patio is that it's completely safe for Indigo to be out there, even if I duck back into the apartment for a moment. There's no way that she could fall (or even to climb up on a bench.

Here the view from one side of the patio - palm tree!

And here is the view from the other railing. Both pictures look out over Academy grounds.

Indigo's taken to enjoying her breakfast out on the patio. As soon as she gets her milk in the morning she says, "Outside!" Why not?

For the most part, I really like living here. The apartment's nice, there are laundry facilities in the basement, an inclosed courtyard for the kids to play in, and the added bonus of having several other children in the building for Indigo to play with (and parents for me to chat with). The best part is probably that the Academy has its own private playground across the street, called the Triangle Garden. It's a nice little park, with a swing-set and slide, a sandbox, plenty of room to play soccer or baseball, some benches and a gazebo, and a little water fountain. Plus, lots of trees and shade. It's also gated off, accessible only by our electronic keycards, so it's private and there's no chance of the kids leaving the park and running out into the street. More photos of that playground later.

The journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step

We traveled more than 1,000 miles, of course. It's a bit mind-boggling to think that we're halfway around the world. I spent a good deal of the transatlantic flight watching the big screen at the front of the cabin to see where our little plane icon was on the trip trajectory. Totally boring, yes, but also kind of mindlessly fascinating. But I'm getting ahead of myself.

Quick recap - movers came on the 31st to haul all our stuff out of the house, into a truck (which broke down and needed a jump-haha) and presumably off to a storage facility. By the time they were three-quarters done, I was totally done, and all my belongings could have burned in a fire, for all I cared. I suppose that's not actually true, but I was glad when we finally packed up and drove to Providence to stay with Rachel for a few days.

Which...was lovely. Living with Rachel again, even for such a brief time, was wonderful, and reminded me of the golden Montebello days. We didn't throw any crazy dance parties this time 'round, but we did see a number of folks who stopped by to spend time with us before we were set to flee the country.

And we nearly didn't get beyond that first step. US Airlines almost didn't let Indigo and I fly, because our return tickets were for 10 months in the future, and we didn't have visas - so we could technically only stay in Italy for 3 months. So they refused to let us check in. Sure, they had a point - it is actually illegal to stay in the country for 10 months without a visa. But I honestly don't think that the Italians care. Nor have any Academy fellows run into this problem before. Josh called the Academy immediately and someone tried to get in touch with the NY Consulate to get everything straightened out. We never did hear back from the Consulate, because if we waited around, we'd miss our flight (which was so helpfully delayed an hour - actually good luck, because of this other problem). Instead we just changed the return date for our flights to November. Which we'll have to change back to June. Which incur a $250 change fee, per change, per ticket. That's - yup - you guessed it! $1,000 in fees. Thanks, US Air.

Anyway, after that, the flights went as well as they could have. We had a short flight to Charlotte, which was not as crazy busy as I'd feared, so that was a big plus. Indigo fussed a bit on that flight and then slept, so she was fairly wide awake for the second 9-hour flight. Despite being exhausted, she was as good as gold on the long flight. Really. Minimal fussing or wriggling.  After about 3 hours she slept, fitfully, and I had to soothe her back to sleep a few times. Only at the end of the flight did she begin to demand to get out of her seat, and by then, we were only about a half hour from our destination.

Getting through the airport was actually fairly easy, although there was a long wait for our bags. A driver from the Academy had been sent to meet us (he had Josh's name on a sign in the lobby - how cool is that?) and my first glimpse of Rome included palm trees and strange spiky foliage partially obscured by a concrete parking garage. The sound of whistles being blown, car horns honking. A strange sweetish smell, which I later identified as diesel fumes. We got in the car and drove breakneck down a highway and through some part of Rome, and then, suddenly, we were at our new home.

My memories of those first few hours are a little fuzzy, since I was running on perhaps 4 hours of sleep. I think I put Indigo down for a nap, unpacked a little, then slept myself.

Next up: our first few days, our apartment, the Academy, and other adventures.